


Darkroom 02 - Evening With Geisha

by Soledad



Series: The Darkroom of Atlantis [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Corporal Punishment, F/M, Lorne Knows How To Have Fun, M/M, Multi, Role-Playing Game, Small Women Are Not To Be Underestimated, cross-dressing, dom/sub relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7725025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soledad/pseuds/Soledad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miko and her associates think of a new Themenabend in the Darkroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second story arc of the “Darkroom” series. These arcs are independent ones and can be read alone. While not exactly an AU, this series has both Markham and Grodin alive. Unlike in my other SGA stories, in this one I work with the canonical Dr. Weir, as played by Torri Higginson.

**PRELUDE**

The alarm clock set off at the usual ungodly early hour, and Miko reached out automatically to silence it, thus buying herself another ten minutes of blessed slumber – only to find her arm blocked by something white… and rather hard. Still befuddled from not nearly enough sleep, she felt her way up the strange object and encountered smooth, warm skin. She opened bleary eyes, noticing the dark mahogany colour, and the first synapses providing coherent thought fired up, finally recognizing the object for what it was: an arm, in a cast.

The familiar scent of a certain aftershave joined the sight of the arm, defining its owner, who seemed to have rolled onto his side in his sleep, throwing aforementioned arm, cast and all, across Miko, effectively pinning her down.

“Peter,” she murmured, trying to lift the broken arm without waking its owner, so that she could get up and switch off that damn alarm clock. “Peter, let go…”

The sleeping man didn’t move, but on her other side, blue eyes opened in a face deeply lined with exhaustion, blinking owlishly.

“ _Máte přání, milácku_?” her other bedmate asked softly, with the adorable expression of a lost puppy on his sleepy face, his wispy hair sticking out in every direction.

“Peter has trapped me,” Miko explained in a low voice. “I must get up, but I don’t want to wake him.”

“He needs beauty sleep,” Radek nodded in agreement, then yawned heart-rendingly. “He’s not only one.”

“True, but _you_ need to get up, too,” Miko reminded him. “Or there would be problems.”

“Am not afraid of Rodney,” Radek said darkly. “He’s miserable _little_ man…”

“… and he’s on Earth, right now,” Miko interrupted him. “You’re head of science department now, have you forgotten?”

“Oh,” Radek’s face fell as reality hit home. “I have, haven’t I? Is very unfortunate that when slave driver has finally left for months, I still can’t stay in bed because I got to do _his_ job, too.”

“But you can get his coffee, too, and you can shower with me,” Miko offered. “ _If_ you free me from Peter’s clutches, that is.”

Radek seemed to find _that_ a proper substitute for more sleep, and less than ten minutes later they were standing in the shower cubicle, engaged in activities that weren’t necessarily part of one’s morning ritual. Although Radek wasn’t nineteen anymore, as he frequently pointed out, five hours of sleep had been enough recovery time for him to sport a splendid morning erection, and Miko thought it would be a shame to waste that.

Besides, having sex in the shower while their shared lover was sleeping next door was only one of the deliciously dirty things she’d come to appreciate since she’d gotten hooked up with those two.

It had all begun with the discovery of what they thought to be an abandoned recreational area of the Ancients, perhaps two months or so before the siege. Peter and Radek, who’d been friends and lovers since Antarctica, had recognized the need of the hour and organized the biggest hit on Atlantis’ black market: a swinger club, where people could have anonymous sex with no strings attached, or rent a room for an undisturbed evening with their chosen partner.

As the organising of their… unofficial business required a great deal of computer skills, they’d enlisted Miko’s help early on. She found great delight in the task – and in their company. She’d been surprised to find out that only Peter considered himself actually gay – that Radek, in fact, was divorced with a child at home – and that both were more than willing to include her into their partnership. As Miko was straight but not bothered by two men making out in her presence, their little triangle gave every single one of them exactly what they needed.

Radek dearly loved Peter, on several levels, but he still needed a female partner to have a satisfying sex live; he was a skilled and considerate lover, and Miko found great delight in him. But this was not the only satisfaction she found in her partners.

Growing up in a _very_ conservative Japanese family meant for a daughter that she had to fight hard if she wanted a scientific career. Even in the 21st century, sons had it a lot easier than daughters. And even if a daughter managed the near-impossible (usually in a foreign country, which, in Miko’s case, was the United States), the danger of falling back to indoctrinated behavioural patterns was very real.

Nobody knew that that better than Miko.

She was a brilliant computer scientist who’d got chosen for the Atlantis expedition due to her skills and knowledge. She was one of the best and the brightest, and she knew that. And yet she allowed Dr. McKay to treat her as if she wouldn’t count. To yell at her, to belittle her work, to make her perform tasks no American secretary would be willing to do.

He didn’t even remember her name, most of the time. The fact that he often didn’t remember Radek’s, either, didn’t count. Dr. McKay respected Radek, while he treated Miko like a subordinate. Like a _useless_ subordinate.

It was dangerous pattern, for which she needed a balance, unless she wanted to lose all the self-confidence she’d worked so hard to achieve all her life. Peter and Radek offered her a way to find that balance.

Of course, her friends back home, the ones who fought the same battle on a daily basis, would think that sharing her bed with _two_ highly respected and influential men probably wasn’t truly an alternative. But her friends couldn’t know how different things were in Atlantis, where men outnumbered women two to one, and thus the usual social structures didn’t work.

Besides, her… association with Peter and Radek enabled her to explore her darker side once again. True, she’d worked as a domina in Tokyo during college to save enough money for her post-graduate year in Princeton. To be able to gain her PhD in the land of opportunities. But that hadn’t been the only reason. She loved role-playing, and she truly got off on the power that her role as a domina gave her over her customers. To see all those rich and influential and highly successful males crawl on all fours and lick her boots filled her with grim satisfaction.

She didn’t need that sort of satisfaction with her current partners. They made her sated and happy all the time, so it wasn’t too hard to ignore Dr. McKay’s complete lack of social graces, as soon as she left the lab. It was usually Radek whom she had the actual sex with. Peter was mostly a voyeur during these three-way encounters. He liked to hold her in his arms, hugged to his chest, while Radek took her, though, playing with her and stimulating her with his clever hands. And when the two men kissed each other passionately over her shoulder, with Radek still deeply joined with her, it was the hottest thing she’d experienced in her entire life.

On the rare occasions when Peter wanted to take her, he preferred anal intercourse, and Miko had grown to like it the Greek way, though she’d never have believed, had anyone told her that she would. In his own way, Peter was just as gentle and considerate as Radek, and the thought of being desired by him, who’d only ever wanted men in his bed before, made her forget the small discomfort.

She was glad that neither of them asked her to go down on him. For some reason, that though grossed her out to no end. Which was strange, considering all things they were doing together, but everyone had his or her squick factor, and performing oral sex on men was hers (although she didn’t mind to be on the receiving end). Fortunately, her two men took good care of each other in that area.

Her legs wrapped around Radek’s waist, her back pressed against the wet tiles, Miko arched against her lover’s gently insistent thrusts and bit her lower lip to hold back her scream. Peter needed his sleep, and that had nothing to do with beauty. He was still recovering from the severe injuries suffered by the destruction of that Ancient satellite weapon.

It had been a miracle that the _Daedalus_ found him at all, on that small moon, in the subterranean outpost where the emergency transporters had evacuated him in the last moment. But he’d already been severely injured, and it took Dr. Beckett two separate operations to set his broken bones and remove his ruptured spleen. This was only the second night he spent in their shared quarters.

Well, actually, those were _Miko_ ’s quarters to be accurate. But one of the advantages of living with an engineer – well, with _two_ engineers – was that they could modify any given room to their own advantage. It had been sheer luck that Peter and Radek had been assigned next door at the beginning. Miko had changed quarters in their fourth month in Atlantis, using the fact that everyone wanted to have bigger quarters, while she was happier in smaller ones. It hadn’t needed much of a diplomatic effort to maneuvre Dr. Brown into swapping quarters with her; Kathie wanted to be closer to Dr. McKay, whom she’d been doggedly pursuing for some time anyway – for reasons nobody really understood.

Miko, Peter and Radek had been trying various ways of living together. As all three liked to cuddle together in bed, regardless of the short length of their nights, finally they all ended up using Miko’s bedroom. It had a low mattress, larger than even king-size, on the floor, where they all had enough room to have a restful sleep together – or for more vigorous activities, if they did feel up to it. The two men created small, well-concealed doors between the three quarters, so that they could move freely from one to another, while still keeping a modest face for the outside world.

Of course, this arrangement also led to the almost exclusive use of Miko’s bathroom, too. Especially when two of them – or all three, though that was a less frequent occasion – chose to use it at the same time. Usually, those times included more than just washing.

Miko shuddered in her climax and combed her fingers through Radek’s wet hair, plastered to his skull by the needle-thin spray of the shower. He smiled at her.

“Was good, yes?” he asked. He was not fishing for compliments, and she knew it. He just wanted to know if she was satisfied.

She smiled back at him. “Very good, thank you. We should finish our shower, though. We’ve got work to do.”

“Lots of work,” he agreed regretfully and lowered her to her feet again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Another long day followed, with eleven hours of work, save from way too short lunch and coffee breaks (well, tea break for Miko) and several stolen minutes when they dropped in to look after Peter.

The mood in the engineering section had been a particularly foul one, with doctors Simpson and Kavanagh shouting at each other all the time. They did that frequently, and their fighting had turned particularly vicious after their recent break-up. That was the disadvantage of living in such a small, closed community – it was hard to avoid one’s ex, especially when working in the same lab.

“I fear life won’t be easier when Rodney returns,” Peter said, when, at the end of the incruciatingly long day, his two partners finally came home.

“Mhm,” Radek agreed, rolling his aching shoulders and groaning in pleasure as Miko’s small, warm hands worked on the knotted muscles of his back. She truly had magic fingers. “I expect open mutiny from new members of engineering department soon after he starts yelling at everyone and calling them idiots, imbeciles and morons.”

The other two nodded, knowing that it could become a problem indeed. The survivors of the original engineering crew, who’d gone through the first hellish year of Atlantis together, knew all to well what was truly hidden behind Dr. McKay’s rudeness and arrogance: fear. Fear that one day he’d run out of the miracles everyone was always expecting from him. That he wouldn’t be able to save the city again, when something goes horribly wrong the next time.

It was a fear they all shared. But nobody was under as much pressure as Dr. McKay. Being a certifiable genius also meant that people expected him to do the impossible at a whim of his heart.

So far, he’d always succeeded. But there were no guarantees that he always would.

Yes, Dr. McKay could be a jerk sometimes – well, to be honest, he was a jerk almost permanently – and it was difficult to work for him at the best of times. Even for incredibly talented people like Radek, or for devoted perfectionists like Miko. He was arrogant, loud, and whiny, he could drive people crazy with his ceaseless complaining, and his table manners – or the complete lack thereof – could ruin other people’s appetites for good. But he was still their best hope for survival. And the sooner the newbies understood that, the better.

Nonetheless, the united brains behind the _Darkroom_ (the best ones of them currently present) had realized that something had to be done about the situation. Some of that work could be done before Dr. McKay’s return, but they all agreed that preventive clarification among the newbies wouldn’t be enough to save Rodney from making too many enemies.

Something needed to be done _for_ the man himself.

“He needs outlet,” Radek said gravely. “He’d greatly benefit from session with Miko – or with Sergeant Bates – I think.”

Miko shook her head doubtfully.

“I don’t believe you can persuade him to try,” she said. “Especially since you never tried it yourself.”

“I don’t need it,” Radek turned back to give her a light kiss, then leaned forward to accept a long, deep-tongued one from Peter. “Am very fortunate man,” he added, a little breathlessly, when Peter finally allowed him to come up for air, “to have you both in my life. Poor Rodney has no one.”

Miko blinked. “I thought he had Maj… Colonel Sheppard.”

“Is popular misconception,” Radek told her. “Rodney tries to prove himself to Colonel Sheppard because Rodney wants to be best in _everything_ , even in things he cannot. And Colonel Sheppard likes to make fool of Rodney, to laugh at him beyond his back,” he added a little angrily, “which is why people seem to think they’re just teasing each other all the time.”

“They are not?” Miko asked in honest surprise.

Radek shook his head.

“Is very serious fight for dominance between them,” he said. “Rodney feels threatened by colonel who has very strong, natural ATA gene and is not dumb as Rodney would expect from military.”

“Could have fooled me,” Peter commented dryly.

“No, no, no,” Radek said. “He _does_ act foolish because he has ego of the size of solar system and libido twice as large. But he really has very high IQ, besides blowing up and killing things, and that makes Rodney uncertain around him.”

“Jealous, you mean,” Peter said. Radek grinned.

“That, too. Rodney would like alien princesses throw themselves to _his_ feet, too.”

“Dr. Brown does exactly that,” Miko pointed out, “and yet Dr. McKay does not show any interest.”

“Oh, but she’s only botanist,” Radek grinned. “Not really science, not in Rodney’s eyes.”

“It doesn’t involve math,” Miko agreed. “Only math can make someone desirable in Dr. McKay’s eyes. Katie should settle for Dr. Parrish and drool with him over alien plants. They would be a perfect match.”

They all laughed. Radek shrugged off his blue sciences uniform and left for a shower. Miko, already done with that part of her personal hygiene, curled up against Peter’s side, wearing only an oversized T-shirt, as usual.

“Anyway,” she said, "we got request for a new _Themenabend_ in the _Darkroom_. Several people asked for a traditional evening with geisha.”

“Or what they _think_ would be a traditional evening with geisha,” Peter grinned.

Both he and Radek had familiarized themselves with Japanese traditions for Miko’s sake, so he knew that geisha were _not_ prostitutes. A lot of people still seemed to think they were, though. The inability – or unwillingness – of some people to check simple facts never ceased to amaze him.

It also irritated the scientist in him to no end, because, let be honest, just how hard it was to do some basic research?

“Certainly, what they are thinking of would be more the _tayu_ ,” Miko agreed,” even though they do not really exist anymore. But the _Darkroom_ is there to provide people with their personal fantasies, so why not? I have consulted some of our Japanese… acquaintances, and found a few who’d be willing to play the role accordingly.”

“You have?” Peter was a little surprised. “I thought your people didn’t take the maiming of your culture kindly.”

“We do not,” Miko shrugged, “but not everyone has been raised in respect for traditions. Besides, with proper clothing and make-up, everyone can _look_ like a geisha. Even men, if they have to.”

“Oh, but can they move and behave like one?” Radek asked, coming back from the bathroom, a clean towel slung dangerously low around his waist. He was thinking of female soldiers, of course, who – while perhaps more than willing to get properly laid – would be hard-pressed to make the impression of petite Oriental women.

Miko smiled, guessing what was going through his mind.

“I meant other Asians,” she said. “Private Yamato has offered to give them a crash course in appropriate behaviour.”

“ _Yamato_?” with some effort, Peter tore his eyes from the thin trail of hair leading suggestively to Radek’s groin, barely hidden by the towel.

His mild shock was more than understandable. Private Yamato, while short and slender, was a tough, gung-ho Marine, with a black belt in several martial arts – and very, _very_ male.

Miko shrugged. “He is gay. And as you know, male geisha, also known as _hokan_ , had been there a lot longer than female ones. Private Yamato has an aunt back on Earth who used to be an experienced geisha before retiring due to high age and following the rest of the family to the States. He used to live in her house in Kyoto for years, and was trained in several traditional skills.”

“I can see how that might be useful in the context of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’, actually,” Peter said thoughtfully. “And it promises an… interesting evening in any case. Is he coming as a male or as a female?”

“As a female,” Miko said. “The traditional make-up will cover the differences. Dr. Kavanagh has offered to mix for us the _bintsuke-abura_ and the white powder. He said he hadn’t had the chance to play with chemicals for fun since we left Earth.”

“Let’s just hope the stuff won’t explode,” Peter grimaced.

Miko swatted him on his good arm.

“Don’t be so mean to Dr. Kavanagh! He’s not an idiot, you know. He’s just… difficult sometimes.”

“Arrogant, abrasive and rude would be better description,” Radek remarked dryly.

“He’s not any worse than Dr. McKay,” Miko said, turning very serious all of the sudden. “Actually, he’s a lot easier to bear. The only difference is that people – at least the members of the original expedition – are willing to overlook a lot because Dr. McKay keeps saving their lives. But that might change, soon, with all the new people around us, and you know that.”

“Not for Kavanagh, I imagine,” Radek said.

Miko nodded but her eyes were dark with anger.

“Perhaps. But if you two and Dr. McKay would treat Dr. Kavanagh as the good scientist he is – and I _know_ he’s very good in his field, we used to work together at SGC – he might stop complaining all the time and become a lot more efficient. It’s hard to do outstanding work when one’s permanently assigned to sewer treatment – a task suitable for a third grade technician.”

“He’s an engineer,” Radek said, just a tad defensively.

“So are you,” Miko replied, “but you never had to work in the sewers. Let’s be honest, Dr. McKay tends to assign people he doesn’t like to unpleasant duties, without rotation. If I were Dr. Kavanagh, _I would_ complain, too.”

Peter felt the tension between his partners reach a really unpleasant level and saw the time ripe for an intervention.

“Are you going to take a role in the geisha night?” he asked Miko.

She recognized the not-so-subtle suggestion to change the topic but smiled indulgently. It had been clear that Peter would come to Radek’s rescue, no matter what. From the three of them, Peter was definitely the one most in love.

“It depends,” she replied. “A geisha needs a _danna_ – a patron who supports her lifestyle. I wonder if I shall find a man important and generous enough to take over that part.”

Her eyes laughed as she looked at Radek. Radek’s eyes sparkled in answer at the mental images taking shape before his mind’s eye. Those images had nothing to do with Japanese traditions – but they were… endearing.

“Oh, I imagine you would,” he said, his grin growing from ear to ear.

“But does such a patron not serve an overlord?” Peter asked, getting into the spirit of the game. “And should he not offer his protégée to his overlord first?”

The other two looked at him in pleasant surprise. This was the first time since his rescuing that Peter would show any interest for their erotic games, although they had played them all the time before. Perhaps he was really on the mend, Radek thought in relief.

“You imagine overlord would be interested in beautiful geisha?” he asked with twinkling eyes.

“I believe so,” Peter slowly pulled up the hem of Miko’s oversized T-shirt, baring her pleasantly rounded bottom. “Who could resist such a pretty arse? Surely not an overlord.”

He slid his hand around Miko’s ass, tracing the perfect curves and smiled. There was something predatory in his glance, something that made her shiver.

“Are you up to it?” Radek asked earnestly.

“Not in this moment,” Peter squeezed a soft asscheek gently, his regret obvious. “But as soon as I get a clean bill of health from Dr. Nguyen. In the meantime… you know how much I love to watch the two of you make love.”

“Peter, I’m not nineteen years old anymore,” Radek laughed quietly. “Was long and hard day.”

Peter snatched away that towel with his free hand before Radek could have reacted.

“I’d say the day wasn’t the only thing that was long and hard,” he teased, with a pointed look at Radek’s groin that was already showing definite interest.

Radek, used to nudity in his lovers’ company, grinned at him, and then turned to Miko.

“Are you in the mood, _milácku_?” he asked.

Miko hesitated for a moment. To tell the truth, she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than her well-deserved sleep. But her two men were looking at her with such fond, hopeful eyes that it was hard to resist them. Besides, sex with Radek was always pleasurable… especially now that Peter showed some interest for participation again.

“Inspire me,” she replied, stretching languorously under the two pairs of hands already upon her body.


	2. Evening With Geisha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major Lorne discovers the joy of roleplaying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Private Yamato is the marine played by Phoenix Ly in the 1st Season episode “Suspicions”. Sgt. Hagiwara is the Asian Gate technician sometimes seen in the background. All other characters are nameless faces from the show whom I gave an identity. Dr. Aram Moosekian is an original character, “played” by CSI Miami’s Rory Cochrane.
> 
> I’m well aware of the fact that this little fantasy has _nothing_ to do with the actual life and role of geisha in Japanese society. This is but a game for outsiders with too-vivid imaginations, offered to the customers of the _Darkroom_ in friendly indulgence. The particulars are the result of my Internet research on Japanese culture. I apologize profoundly if I got anything wrong. No disrespect was ever involved.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Trying to give the _Themenabend_ as much authenticity as possible, Miko and her helpers decided to recreate one of the _hanamachi_ – the so-called “flower town”-areas, where geisha traditionally operated – on the large dance floor of the _Pegasus Bar_. This time, the event wasn’t restricted to those involved with the _Darkroom_. The extensive preparation would have been impossible to make in secret, and it would have been a waste of energy and resources to do all the work for _Darkroom_ customers only.

It was a question of good organization, after all. They would offer the main event – Japanese food and music and the picturesque scenery – to everyone who wanted some off time. Some of the private rooms, however, would only open for certain persons, and no ATA gene would help those unwanted in those private areas. It could be done, with the proper discretion.

Besides, the ever-present chance of getting caught would be an additional thrill, Private Yamato declared. And he was an expert in such things, after all.

They enlisted the help of the Athosians for decoration, food and costumes. At the very least the “geisha” needed to be properly clad, and the Athosians, finding great fun in the idea, were able to provide the fabric and the basic food stuff as well as skilled hands to actually sew the garments.

It had been a fortunate coincidence that Dr. Moosekian, one of Radek’s most trusted engineers (an energetic, though slightly gruff Armenian) had recently discovered the elaborate holographic system integrated in the walls of the dance floor. It had been programmed by the Ancients to provide a number of various landscapes – all illusionary and unsubstantial, of course, but beautiful illusions nevertheless. Miko and Peter spent two nights programming the typical Japanese interior of a geisha house, with flowering trees and a small stream with a bridge seen through the virtual windows, and everyone was very satisfied with the results.

“Very convincing,” Private Yamato, who’d practically spent his childhood on his aunt’s geisha house in Kyoto, nodded approvingly. “Now, we need several side rooms for the official tea ceremony… how many exactly?”

“Four, at the very least,” Dr. Nakamura, one of the engineers, said. “We have to keep the… outsiders entertained and safely away from the private areas. If we only perform the _cha-no-yu_ , the simplest ritual, we could do four, each for ten people. That would be enough distraction, I think.”

“True, but where would we get four tea masters?” Dr. Marylin Okuda, one of the computer specialists, added.

“I can perform one ceremony,” Dr. Nakamura replied, “and Miko-san can do another one. The _cha-no-yu_ can also be performed without a true master, so Dr. Shinsegawa and Dr. Eigoro can jump in. They’re experienced enough to do it properly. As Dr. Shinsegawa is not interested in… _alternate_ programs – she says she’s beyond that age – she can keep an eye on the outsiders, so that they won’t get to see anything they’re not supposed to see.”

“Do we have final list of geisha volunteers?” Radek asked, studying his electronic notebook.

“We’ve received a surprisingly great number of offers,” Miko replied. “Sergeant Hagiwara and that Athosian girl, Marta, are coming as _maiko_ – the heavy make-up will help concealing their true identity. Two of the infirmary nurses, Roseann Cho and Julie Ow also asked to be made up as _maiko_. They are Korean, but I doubt that anyone beside us would recognize the difference. Private Yamato, doctors Eigoro and Okuda, and, of course, myself, will come as geisha. And doctor Shinsegawa will be made up as the “mother” of the geisha house and oversee the entire event.”

“But we still accept volunteers, don’t we?” Yamato asked.

Miko nodded. “In theory, yes. But only for the official event. This is a… _sensitive_ operation we’ll be running right under the nose of those not involved.”

“Does anyone have booked customers already?” Peter asked.

“So far only me and Private Yamato,” Miko replied; the bookings were the part that demanded the most discretion, so the task was left to her unique encrypting abilities.

Yamato’s ears perked up. “I have?” Obviously, he wasn’t aware of the fact that he had a secret admirer somewhere in Atlantis.

Miko nodded again. “I imagine you are up for a true adventure. The others are still free, but all of them willing and ready to, erm… to go beyond traditional geisha entertainment,” she added, blushing slightly. “ _All the way_ beyond.”

There were identical grins all around.

“Haruko-san – Dr. Eigoro – offered to help with applying the traditional make-up to all those who want to come in Japanese style,” Miko then continued. “You can contact her directly. All those who want to book a ‘geisha’ for the night, contact me. I’ll send out a bulletin to regular Darkroom customers. Questions?”

There were none at the moment. Everyone seemed to look forward to the event, though. After the siege and all those deaths, they deserved to have some fun.

“I’m glad we can get this done before the _Daedalus_ returns,” Private Yamato said thoughtfully. “I’d hate to try it under Colonel Sheppard’s nose. The man is way too nosy for my taste.”

“Not to mention Dr. Weir,” Dr. Nakamura, not exactly a fan of their expedition leader, commented. “She’d drag out some obscure law against sexual molestation to prohibit the very existence of the _Darkroom_.”

Peter, who’d lost his thin bi streak due to the constant exposure to Elizabeth’s frosty ‘charm’ – not to mention her dogged pursuit of him – grinned mirthlessly.

“I won’t be so sure about that,” he said. “But I won’t try anything like this under her nose, either. Let’s use the time that we have. When our fearless leaders return from Earth, the _Darkroom_ will have to lie a lot lower for a while anyway. We’ve grown a little too bold for our own good lately.”

The others nodded in grim agreement. Under Radek’s rule, based on the simple politics of live and let live, things were somewhat easier. Teyla, nominally Dr. Weir’s temporary replacement, didn’t interfere with the private lives of the Earth people, either. When the leading staff returned, things would be different again.

Especially with Earth’s control becoming more real, due to the chance of regular contact. Their freedom would be cut back considerably, by getting within the reach of the authorities. But until then, they had some breathing space, and they intended to use it at maximum efficiency.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Private Harry Yamato, he with the black belt in tae kwan do and the deadly hands, gave his mirror image a critical look. A traditionally made-up _oiran_ looked back at him from the mirror; not that more than perhaps three other people in Atlantis would have been able to make a difference between his looks and that of a geisha, but this was the persona he was going to embrace tonight: a highly cultivated female prostitute.

His fellow Marines – save from those who were _Darkroom_ customers – would get a heart attack, did they knew who was hidden behind the heavy make-up and the ornate clothes.

And yet, he had been booked for tonight – not just any geisha in general but he in particular. Whoever the customer might be, they knew what to expect… and wanted exactly that. Which was a relief, as he still had the unkind memories of a past customer shocked and enraged when discovering the wrong set of sexual organs under the all-covering kimono. But, of course, such things couldn’t happen in the _Darkroom_. This wasn’t a third-class transgender club in Little Tokyo, Los Angeles; Miko-san knew what she was doing.

Yamato turned around with tiny steps – the traditional _koma-geta_ , customer-made by a skilled Athosian wood-carver, didn’t allow abrupt movements. Balancing on the 10-inch platforms was a task that required a great deal of experience, which he, fortunately, had. He was wearing a _furisode_ , a very formal women’s kimono that he had inherited from his aunt and brought to Atlantis labelled as sleeping garment. Not that he’d really hoped to put it to use any time soon, but it was a piece of home he wanted to keep with him.

Now he got the unexpected chance to show it off, and the hand-made kimono with the 42-inch-long, sweeping sleeves and the delicate, dark flower pattern on black, covering the entire garment, richly deserved that chance. The _obi_ , tied in the front, as custom demanded (to distinguish the prostitute from the geisha, who always tied it on the back), was an intricate piece of work and fairly wide, giving his otherwise slim hips some emphasis. He turned his head and noticed with satisfaction how the heavy silk of the kimono emphasized the curve of his ass. A hundred or so kicking exercises a day could shape one’s backside very nicely, and one of the most satisfying things that being gay gave him was the fact that he could appreciate his looks unashamedly. The wig he was wearing was coiffed in the traditional _shimada_ style, He was still a bit surprised that he’d managed to smuggle it through the otherwise tight controls as ‘padding material’.

He was satisfied with is looks. He really did look like a petite woman on high plateau shoes, his face painted like an exotic mask (Dr. Kavanagh had outdone himself with the _bintsuke-abura_ and the white powder), and his _kanzashi_ , silk flowers and jade hairpins, sat in the wig perfectly. He wondered who his customer might be and why they wanted him, the only male from the whole group of fake geishas, but he was determined to give the best performance possible.

Perhaps it was one of his fellow Marines, he mused. The DADT policy made it very hard for gay soldiers to find suitable partners, even for only one night, and cross-dressing wasn’t everybody’s way to keep some sort of privacy. But which one?

His gaydar had identified Sergeant Bates (his own team leader, no less) early on, ad he’d had his suspicions about Stackhouse for some time by now. But Bates was still recovering from his severe injuries he’d gotten during the siege, and Stackhouse was so obviously besotted with the seemingly clueless Markham (also recently and miraculously found alive) that Yamato doubted either of them would have the energy or the interest.

One of the closet cases, also. That was an interesting possibility, because he didn’t think anyone of the original troops would swing that way. And the newbies were still too new to know about the existence of the _Darkroom_ to begin with. Unless one of them had an old buddy in the original crew, that is, who vouched for them.

There was still the possibility of one of the scientists, of course. They weren’t as restricted as the soldiers, and Yamato knew quite a few of them were bit, at the very least. He ruled out doctors Grodin and Zelenka – they would be busy enough with each other and with Miko-san – but everyone else was pretty much a possible chance. It would be fun to find out their identity.

As one of the entertainers booked in advance, Yamato had been assigned a small side room to perform the tea ceremony in private for his guests. _Guests_ , in plural, to be more accurate, as Miko-san had warned him, just before he’d been made up, that he’d be entertaining two visitors. There was no notice whether both would be requiring sexual services or not. Both possibilities had their own attraction. After the long time of forced abstinence, two partners would be highly satisfying. On the other hand, concentrating on one partner could make the experience the more intense. He was open for both versions.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
When he arrived at his room, it had already been prepared in the traditional fashion – with _tatami_ (or the Athosian equivalent of them, knotted of some sort of local grass) on the floor, tea utensils laid out accurately around the small stone hearth, a calligraphic scroll with an appropriate place hung up in the _tokonoma_ (the scroll alcove) with a simple _chabana_ flower arrangement in front of it.

Yamato placed his bamboo flute and mentally checked his entertainment menu. The formal invitation he’d got two days earlier – hand-written in Japanese and with spotless phrasing in almost archaic speech patterns – showed that his guests wanted the full programme. Spreading his legs for them wouldn’t do alone… although it was required, as they’d specifically asked for an _oiran_. They wanted to be _entertained_ , though; they wanted everything a highly skilled and educated professional courtesan could offer.

All of that was no problem for Yamato. He’d gone to the Marines because his parents couldn’t pay his college fee – and because his martial arts skills were an added bonus in that profession – but he wasn’t an under-educated simpleton. During the years spent with his aunt in the Gion Kobu district in Kyoto, he’d been taught traditional music, dance, poetry and calligraphy, as if he had been a girl (as his aunt discovered his orientation at a very tender age), and he kept those hobbies in the following years. A bamboo flute or the brushes were easy to keep on one’s body and they provided an excellent way to focus himself in-between dangerous missions. And cross-dressing provided him with an efficient way to keep his anonymity whenever he was on the lookout for a partner. His alter ego, a hokan character named Uraga, had become quite famous in Little Tokyo, before he’d opted for the Atlantis mission. Nobody had ever guessed his true identity.

Accordingly, he had quite the repertoire. Aside from the traditional geisha skills, he also had a broad offer of jokes, erotic tales and skits, which usually belonged to the repertoire of the _hokan_ , the male geisha. He could offer his services in whichever form his guests wanted. And he was truly looking forward to slip back into that role again. It had been too long.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
He went through the official part of the _Themenabend_ in a light trance, trembling with nerves and anticipation. As he was speaking in a soft, high-pitched voice and the heavy make-up covered his face like a mask, he remained unrecognized by everyone but the Darkroom personnel. It was funny to see the admiring – and totally clueless – looks of his fellow Marines; they would never associate the petite geisha with the sensuous roll of hips with the tough, gung-ho soldier who kicked their collective asses during hand-to-hand combat training on a daily basis. Yamato enjoyed the situation enormously, but at the same time, he couldn’t wait to get to the more important part of the evening.

Finally, the beginning of the tea ceremony was announced, and the hosts left to their respective tea rooms to welcome their guests. Traditionally, each of them had been assigned a "maiko” to act as their assistant during the ceremony. Yamato’s _hanto_ was Sergeant Hagiwara, the Gate room technician – a woman well-versed in tradition, as his customers seemed to wish for an authentic ceremony.

Nonetheless, the two tall men the _hanto_ led in weren’t wearing any Japanese clothes but the closest thing possible to colonial British uniforms a la Madame Butterfly. They were also wearing eye masks that covered half of their faces, but of course, one of them was easily recognizable by the heavy mass of golden brown curls that reached down to his shoulder blades. Nobody in Atlantis had hair like Dr. Kavanagh, not even Halling, the Athosian leader, whose mane was a rich and pretty one, too.

This surprised Yamato a bit, as Dr. Kavanagh was considered straight as a board and twice as inflexible. But again, he was a scientist, and scientists liked to experiment. That, or the other man was the true customer, and Dr. Kavanagh had only come for the entertainment.

Or to watch them. Which, frankly, was fine with Yamato, who had a definite exhibitionist streak in him.

The more interested was he growing about the identity of his other customer. A well-built man this one was, too, the strong body in that almost-too-tightly fitting "uniform" spoke of a Marine, which was to be expected. A civilian wouldn’t have to be so cautious. But only the studying of that strong jawline made Yamato realize whom he was about to entertain in the most intimate way possible, and for a moment he was rendered speechless.

Who’d have thought that Major Lorne was gay?

Well, perhaps everyone had _thought_ it for a moment or two. Stories about his close friendship with Dr. Parrish, clumsiest botanist in two galaxies and maker of the most excellent, natural lube from some of his beloved plants, had been circulating around the city ever since the major’s arrival. But why would he book a gay male geisha, then? Was it thunder in paradise, for which he needed an outlet, or was the rumour mill wrong, and Dr. Parrish was merely a good friend of his?

That was possible, of course. But the rumour mill of Atlantis was practically never wrong. And anyway, what was Dr. Kavanagh doing here? Had the two men known each other from earlier and was Dr. Kavanagh the one who vouched for the major by the organizers of the Darkroom? There was no other way an unproved newbie would have been allowed.

Whatever the case might be, Yamato had no time to do the proper guessing. He had a tea ceremony to perform, and it demanded great concentration.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
 _Cha-no-yu_ literally meant “hot water for tea” and was the simplest of all tea ceremonies, containing a single ritual with no food offered. Consequently, it only took Yamato and his _hotan_ an hour to perform it with all intricacies involved, while a full ceremony with meal could have lasted as long as four hours. Despite all reverence for tradition, though, the final goal lay elsewhere in this case.

After the last bowl of _usa cha_ (thin tea) had been offered and consumed, the host and his _hotan_ cleansed the utensils and accepted the compliments from the guests for their art. Yamato answered them with a quote from Toyotomi Hideyoshi.

“When tea is made with water drawn from the depths of mind, whose bottom is beyond measure, we really have what is called _cha-no-yu_ ,” he said, with the proper bow, and keeping his voice high-pitched and feminine. “If you would share your wish with me, honoured guests, I could keep entertaining you in proper fashion. What would be your desire? Should I sing for you, or play the flute, or dance?”

“Actually, we would prefer something else,” Dr. Kavanagh said with a posh British accent that would have put Dr. Grodin to shame, proving again that they were thoroughly enjoying their little Madame Butterfly fantasy. “Are you familiar with that particular skit in which the _taikomochi_ needs to pretend pleasing himself for the entertainment of his _danna_? I think my friend here would greatly enjoy that performance.”

“Certainly, I know that skit,” Yamato replied in his best feminine manner, not even surprised that Dr. Kavanagh would know about classic erotic skits; the man was considered a perfectionist for a reason. “But that is performed by male entertainers.”

“You could pretend,” Major Lorne said, speaking for the first time in the evening. His eyes were glittering through the slits of his silk mask.

Yamato tilted his head to the side in a decidedly feminine manner. He loved games like this and was looking forward to play his part to the letter.

“It would be hard without the proper… equipment, my lord,” he said, batting his long eyelashes endearingly.

“I’d like to be the judge of that,” Lorne said, a bit harshly. Was he getting impatient?

Yamato pretended frightened obedience. “As you wish, my lord. _Maiko_ , attend to me!”

Sergeant Hagiwara helped him out of the priceless kimono, as it would have been a crime to soil it. She removed the _obi_ and the high platform sandals as well, leaving Yamato only in the _hiyoku_ , a type of thin cotton under-kimono, and the _tabi_ , the split-toed white socks. If one wanted to be completely authentic, he shouldn’t have worn the _tabi_ at all, as _oiran_ always went barefooted, even in winter. But his feet couldn’t have been mistaken for delicate female limbs, so he had to make some allowances for the sake of aesthetics.

“When I begin my performance,” he said to Hagiwara, still keeping the high-pitched, feminine voice,” I won’t have need for your services anymore. You will be relieved then.”

“Perhaps your _maiko_ can entertain me in the meantime somewhere private, my lady?” Dr. Kavanagh asked, still using his fake – but very convincing – British accent.

Such a thing would have been unthinkable in Japan, of course, as _maiko_ – apprentice geisha – weren’t allowed to entertain guests on their own. But they were playing out a fantasy here; and besides, Dr. Kavanagh’s request cleared an important fact for Yamato. It seemed that he would only have to service Major Lorne tonight.

“Certainly, my lord,” he said to Dr. Kavanagh. “And I shall do my best to entertain your honoured friend here, if I can.”

He was a bit startled when Major Lorne skittered over, close to him, on the tatami. Every Marine knew that sometimes big guys could move with alarming speed, but he hadn’t seen the major in action yet and hadn’t imagined him being _this_ fast. A strong arm was wrapped around his waist from behind, and a large, rough hand parted the front of his hiyoku to rub his hardening length and to weigh his sack in a cupped palm.

“I’d say,” Lorne’s husky voice said, “that your equipment is well-designed to act out this particular scene, my lady. Imagine that you’re a _taikomochi_ , a male. I’m your _danna_ , and I want to enjoy your body. So, what would you do to satisfy and entertain me as it is my due?”

Yamato was amazed by the thought and detail Dr. Kavanagh and Major Lorne had put into their role. But again, that was the advantage of having a scientist on your team.

“I’d tell you, my lord, that while I am a geisha and a male, I do not lie with other males,” he whispered, his voice nearly breaking with need as the calloused palm of Major Lorne deftly worked on his flesh, massaging him to aching hardness.

“Oh, but I insist,” Major Lorne murmured, biting his earlobe, and not too gently. “I’ve paid a high fee for this ozashiki and I won’t leave it unsatisfied. So, what do you intend to do in order to please me?”

Yamato was hard pushed to act out his role properly, instead of dropping all fours and offer his ass for the taking. But his customer obviously wanted to play first, so play he would.

“Would it please my lord to watch me pleasure myself, hidden behind a screen as it is proper?” he asked as the role demanded. Of course, in real life all this would be just a joke, just pretending the act, but this was the _Darkroom_ , and – apparently – Major Lorne’s private fantasy.

“It would,” the major replied, “but without a screen, and with you facing me. I wish to enjoy the beauty of your play unhindered.”

Yamato bowed his head submissively. “I shall obey. But my lord will have to release me first.”

Major Lorne let go of him, and Yamato arranged himself in the traditional _seiza_ position – first kneeling, then sitting back, with the buttocks resting on the heels, the back straight and the hands folded on the lap – facing his customer. Even without the hard proof arching from between his legs, he couldn’t have denied being turned on. He did have a healthy streak of exhibitionism in his psychological make-up but barely any chance to live it out, and this opportunity was too good to waste it.

Sergeant Hagiwara, still acting out her role as the _maiko_ faithfully, opened his _hiyoku_ and pulled it back, baring his entire front and his shoulders to offer the customer undisturbed view of his body. Then she left the room in Dr. Kavanagh’s company, to play their own game to the proper end.

Yamato could physically feel Major Lorne’s eyes upon his naked skin. It was a feeling familiar to him. As tae kwan do and his other martial arts required a slim and lithe body, his remained slender and smooth like that of a sixteen-year-old, despite his true age and his strength. His customers in Little Tokyo’s transgender clubs always found that fact greatly appealing, and the burning eyes of Major Lorne spoke of the same kind of hunger. It promised the sort of great, hard sex afterwards that Yamato preferred – and had missed for a very long time. He’d always been attracted to strong, very masculine men, which didn’t make his situation in the Corps, surrounded by the men of his exact preference, always easy. Now he hoped he’d get what he needed, at least for one night.

First, however, he had to play his skit to its proper end. So he closed his eyes, laid hand upon himself and went to work with great concentration. He knew he wouldn’t last long, after how much the major had worked him up, but he was determined to make as good a show of it as he could.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” Lorne ordered quietly. “I wanna see you come apart with pleasure… just for me.”

It was hard to obey, he as too far gone already, but he did as he had been told, unable to keep a harsh moan from escaping. Sure, he’d done this before, there had been other men who liked to watch, but not in such a situation, not while on the other side of the door two hundred people were having a party, most of them completely clueless.

“That’s it,” Lorne said with a dark smile. “Sing for me, Madame Butterfly. Let me hear how much you enjoy yourself.”

He was already enjoying himself way too much. There was something deliciously improper in the whole situation, something dark and dirty that made his blood boil. He threw away all caution and brought himself to a shattering climax under the watchful eyes of Atlantis’ current military commander. If there was ever spitting at DADT, this was definitely it, even though Major Lorne was only a temporary replacement for Colonel Sheppard. He loved it.

He was still sitting there, his thighs trembling from the strain and completely unaware of his surroundings, when the towel that Sergeant Hagiwara had so reliably laid out exactly for this purpose, was pushed into his hands. The correct finishing of the skit demanded that he cleaned up himself, and so he did, without giving it a thought, acting on instinct, as _thought_ was a nonexistent quality at the moment.

Then he felt a strong, warm body pressing against his back.

“That was beautiful, my lady,” Major Lorne murmured into his ear, “but now I will have to make you mine. Would you mind if I took you as I would take a man?”

Yamato shook his head, still incapable of coherent speech, amazed how the major was still able to carry on with the game, treating him as if he’d be a female – an _oiran_ – indeed. It was… nice and safe, it gave them both the necessary distance, so that they would be able to face each other afterwards.

He felt the _hiyoku_ being pulled off him completely, and a rough hand urged him to drop his upper body to his elbows. He obeyed eagerly, parting his thighs, offering himself for the taking. He needed to be pounded through the mattress badly… well, through the _tatami_ , in this particular case, with no consideration for rug burns he’ll be having tomorrow, no doubt. The events of the _Darkroom_ were way too infrequent for his taste, and he didn’t dare to approach anyone outside its anonymity.

No, being a gay Marine in such a small, closed community wasn’t always easy.

But Major Lorne was everything he’d hoped for and more. Including considerate – and highly efficient. After a minimum of prep work, he felt as if he’d been split in two by the impressive weapon of his superior officer, the hard thrusts stabbing his sweet spot unerringly, and explosions of white-hot pleasure were wracking his entire body.

If they ended up court-martialled, it would still be worth it, he thought vaguely, surrendering to a second, violent climax within record time. And the night was still young.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
The events of the _Darkroom_ were considered nonexistent by mutual agreement afterwards. So Private Yamato was surprised when he got called to Colonel Sheppard’s office only two days later. Considering that said office was Major Lorne’s revier in Sheppard’s absence, the surprise wasn’t necessary a pleasant one. Especially as he was just going off-duty, so it couldn’t be an official matter.

So was apparently Major Lorne, because he was shutting down his laptop when Yamato knocked on the door.

“Come on in,” he said. “I’m done, and nobody will be bothering us here.”

Yamato found it best to play stupid. “Sir?”

“We need to speak,” Lorne clarified. “About what happened between us.”

“By all due respect, sir, nothing happened between _us_ ,” Yamato said stiffly. “The person you encountered was my alter ego, Uraga – and he only exists in the _Darkroom_.”

“That would be a shame,” Lorne said, “because I liked him a lot and I’d love to meet him again. No,” he corrected himself thoughtfully. “actually, I’d probably like to meet _you_ even more. Just the way you are, without games and fancy dresses and funny make-up that wouldn’t even let me kiss you.”

Yamato couldn’t believe his ears. Had his commanding officer just said that he wanted to fuck him again? That could end badly, for both of them.

“Sir,” he said, after recovering a little. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“Maybe not,” Lorne agreed, “but I’m sick and tired of my own trusted hand, and you let me have a taste of something I’d hate to lose. We can be quiet about the _Darkroom_ , so why wouldn’t we be able to be quiet about the two of us?”

“Because in the _Darkroom_ you’re just a customer, not my commanding officer, sir,” Yamato replied soberly. “Besides, I thought you had a thing running with Dr. Parrish. At least that’s what the rumour mill says, and it’s usually right here.”

“Oh, I did have a crush on David,” Lorne shrugged, “but he’s either completely clueless or not interested at all. And I couldn’t really come out and ask him.”

“Why not, sir? He’s a scientist; he can do as he pleases.”

“But I can’t,” Lorne sighed. “And I get the impression that he’s the romantic kind of guy. Even if he were interested in men, which is in no way certain, he would want to do the whole flowers and dinner thing. The dating and going slowly thing. I can’t do the first one and don’t have the time for the second one.”

“Nobody of us has,” Yamato agreed. Life was risky in the Pegasus galaxy for everyone, but twice as risky for the Marines, whose job was to get everybody _else_ out of harm’s way.

“So I thought it would be better to find someone who understands it,” Lorne continued, “and that’s why I asked Calvin to book for me a male partner for that evening. He’d helped me in such things before.”

“Dr. Kavanagh?” Yamato asked in surprise. “But he’s a jerk… sir.”

“He can be that,” Lorne admitted, “but we know each other from SGC – we were on a few off-world missions together – and I knew I could count on him. I haven’t called you to chat about Calvin, though. I wanted to make you an offer.”

“What kind of offer, sir?”

Lorne rolled his eyes. “You’re not making this easy for me, are you? Very well, let’s call it an… an agreement. Obviously, I can’t offer much, and neither can you. We’re still Marines. What I can and would like to offer is a temporary arrangement, for as long as we both want it. No strings attached. When Colonel Sheppard returns, you won’t be my direct subordinate anymore – and I don’t think the difference of rank would be such a big problem.”

“And I can walk out of it whenever I want?” Yamato asked suspiciously. Something semi-permanent would be nice, but he didn’t want to walk into a trap.

Lorne nodded. “As long as you realize that in that case you will be walking out of it for good.”

“I can live with that, sir,” Yamato said with a shrug.

“Good,” Lorne said. “There’s only one catch. As long as our arrangement lasts, this,” he grabbed Yamato’s ass roughly, “is mine. I don’t share.”

“Then it’s fortunate that I’m a serial monogamist, isn’t it?” Yamato grinned. “I don’t do multiple partners, either. Terms accepted, sir.”

“Good,” Lorne yanked the younger man to him, kissing him hard. “Now we can do this properly.”

“ _Here_?” Yamato all but squealed, and the high, feminine voice was _not_ voluntary this time.

Lorne laughed. “Tempting as it is to bend you over the desk and fuck you senseless, it would be a bit foolhardy. People are used to drop by in Sheppard’s office without announcing themselves. No, I’ve found just the right spot for us.”

“Really? May I ask where, sir?”

“No, you may _not_ ,” Lorne grinned. “Where would be the fun in _that_? No, you’ll have to be ready all the time. I might order you to a storage room… to my own office… or a weapons chamber or a transporter… You’ll never know when to expect duty and when you’ll have to drop your pants and take it like a man.”

Yamato groaned and rolled his eyes in exasperation, but he had to admit that it would be fun. Plus it would lessen the risk of being caught with their pants around their ankles – literally.


	3. Lady Shaqira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney seeks help in unusual places, and Miko finally gets her payback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been recently pointed out somewhere that Zelenka, while has an accent, actually does speak a grammatically correct English – meaning that the whole dropping-your-articles thing is purely fanon. I stand corrected in this. But I find the fanon speech pattern too adorable to drop it entirely. And since I’m writing an AU anyway, I feel entitled to continue maiming the poor man’s grammar a bit.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**LADY SHAQIRA**

The return of the leading staff smote the slightly improving mood in Atlantis again. Especially Dr. Weir was particularly ill-tempered, which, according to Dr. Beckett, was caused by the fact that her boyfriend, a certain Dr. Simon Wallace, had refused to follow her to Atlantis. Apparently, the good doctor had found someone else in her absence.

“And she was surprised by that?” Dr. Kavanagh, generally known as _not_ a fan of Dr. Weir, commented cynically. “After that ‘Dear John’ message she sent him before vanishing into another galaxy without warning, she couldn’t really expect him to wait for her for who knows how long? Let’s hope he’s found a nicer woman for a change.”

“Well, he could have told her right away,” Dr. Beckett said, shaking his head. “He didnae have to keep it from her for weeks, making her hopes.”

“Knowing her reaction to things against her taste, I’d say the guy kept his mouth shut in self-defence,” Dr. Kavanagh replied with a dark little smirk. “I wish _I’d_ been so cautious.”

“You can do it _now_ ,” Radek told him, a little irritated.

“Oh, shut up, Zelenka,” Kavanagh scowled. “Just because you’re her lapdog it doesn’t mean everyone has to like her.”

“Am not Elizabeth’s lapdog,” Radek said indignantly. “Am used to think before speaking, though. You should try, too; can be very useful.”

Their laughter was interrupted by a highly irritated Dr. McKay, who stormed into the mess hall like a rogue Ancient drone.

“I’m sure your small talk could prove inspiring,” he said, glaring daggers especially at Radek, “but in case you haven’t realized yet, this city needs more than me alone to keep it running. So, do you think you could finish this, oh, sometime today, and eventually return to work?”

The others gave him unfriendly looks, mostly for Radek’s sake, who had, after all, worked himself halfway to an early grave during Rodney’s absence. Only the little Czech seemed completely unfazed by the outburst of their irate boss.

“You know, McKay,” he said conversationally; only the fact that he called Rodney by his family name revealed his own mild irritation, “we managed here just fine without you. Actually, it was a lot easier when we had our peace and could do our jobs.”

“Fine?” Rodney snorted. “You call not finding a Wraith virus in our system and nearly killing us all _fine_?”

That hit home. Radek suddenly snapped his mouth shut. Pain and guilt clearly visible in his eyes. He still couldn’t get over the fact that the dratted Wraith virus had somehow found its way from the _Daedalus_ ’ systems into those of Atlantis and very nearly managed to shut the entire city down.

“Rodney, that’s enough,” Grodin warned. “If I remember correctly, _you_ had difficulties to erase the bloody bug from the _Daedalus_ ’ computer as well. And _you_ didn’t have the problems of an entire city on your mind at that time. Radek had.”

Rodney opened his mouth to make another biting remark, but Grodin raised a warning finger.

“Rodney, don’t! We’ve all had more than enough of that attitude of yours. Either you do something about it, or…”

“Or _what_?” Rodney asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Or _we_ will,” Grodin replied very seriously. “This has gone on for too long.”

“Has it?” McKay said. “I’d be very interested what _you_ could do about my so-called attitude.”

“You’d be surprised… and not necessarily in a pleasant way,” Grodin rose with some effort; he was still not completely healed after his ordeal on the Ancient satellite. “Radek, would you mind to see me home? Suddenly I don’t have such a big appetite,”

And with that they left, leaving an indignantly spluttering McKay behind.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
In the following week or so, things showed no sign of improvement. Granted, a typical week in Atlantis was so loaded with bigger and smaller crisises that extreme reactions were almost daily routine. But, as someone said, there was extreme and there was – McKay.

McKay at his usual self would have been hard enough to bear, even for those who’d grown used to his manners during the first year. It seemed, however, that the otherwise brilliant head scientist was still having difficulties to bear with the aftermath of the siege, with their near-extinction – _and_ with the changes of the power structure of the city, caused by the presence of the _Daedalus_ and Colonel Caldwell.

And, of course, the newly arrived scientists weren’t used to the “McKayisms”, as Grodin called it – and didn’t seem to understand why they _should_ get used to them. They hadn’t been there last year. They couldn’t know that McKay – and, in a lesser extent, Zelenka – were crucial for the continued existence of the city and the survival of its inhabitants.

“This is not good,” Grodin said seriously on the weekly gathering off the evil masterminds behind the _Darkroom_ , disguised as their regular card game. “There’ll be complaints, soon. And with regular contact to the SGC, that could cause serious problems.”

“We can’t risk losing Rodney,” Radek supported him. “I’m good but not good enough to master city alone. We need him.”

“Agreed,” Carson said. “But we must act quickly, if we wannae do anything about it – before it’s too late. The new scientists are complaining already.”

“ _You_ should talk to him, doctor,” Miko said. “You are his friend; and as the chief medical officer, you can also pull rank, if necessary.”

“She’s right, Carson,” Grodin said quietly. “Rodney could shake off any of us – he can’t do it with _you_. In medical matters you outrank everyone. And I _would_ call the mental well-being of the science department a medical problem.”

Carson sighed. “Tell me again, why did I want this job in the first place?”

“Because you were – your still _are_ – best candidate for it?” Radek guessed.

Carson shook his head.

“Nah, most likely because I’m a bloody moron,” he said, resignation colouring his voice. “Oh, what the hell, I’ll do it.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
To say that Rodney McKay was annoyed to be ordered into Carson’s office in the middle of… whatever he’d been doing in the lab for the last fourteen hours, would have been an understatement. But there had been a warning undertone in Carson’s voice, clearly audible even for him who normally happily ignored such warnings. He wasn’t ignorant enough to forget that Carson was in the position of releasing him from duty – and that the doctor _would_ do so if pushed too hard.

So he stormed into the infirmary in a state of very visible annoyance.

“Care to tell me what this is about?” he snapped without preamble. “I’d like you to know that you’ve interrupted some very important things…”

“And when is something you’re working on _not_ important?” Carson replied tiredly. “Sit down, Rodney. We need to talk.”

“About what?” Rodney asked in his usual, irritated tone, and started pacing in the office, signalling _you’re wasting my time_ , without actually saying so.

“Anger management,” Carson answered. “ _Sit_ ,” he added in a tone that made Rodney shut up and obey immediately. It was a tone Carson rarely used, and if he did, it was better to do as one was told, because otherwise the mild-mannered doctor was about to do something… drastic.

Carson seemed to appreciate his cooperation.

“Good,” he said. “Now we can perhaps discuss this matter like the two adults we’re supposed to be. Listen to me, Rodney, because I don’t wanna repeat meself. Things cannae continue the way they’re going on right now.”

“What do you mean?” Rodney asked impatiently. “Can’t we just cut the small talk? Because I’ve things to do, you know.”

“So do I, and I’d appreciate not having to waste my time with this, but apparently, there’s no way around it,” Carson replied grimly. “You’re sawing off the branch you’re sitting on, Rodney.”

“Could you repeat this without the poetic metaphors suppressing the actual meaning of it – assuming there _was_ a meaning in the first place?” Rodney asked with biting sarcasm. Carson, however, simply ignored his tone.

“It means that your position isn’t as secure as it used to be,” he answered. “The first wave of complaints about your dealing with people has already hit Elizabeth’s office.”

Rodney shrugged. “Let her deal with the imbeciles. At least she’ll have something useful to do.”

Carson released a frustrated sigh. “You dinnae understand what I’m telling ya, do you?”

“Nah,” Rodney admitted honestly. “People have been complaining about me all the time. And now that we have these newcomers instead of Hayes and Petersen and the others, things oughtta become worse.”

“Hayes and Petersen used to complain about you just as much,” Carson reminded him. “Especially Petersen, who hated your guts even more than Kavanagh does.”

“So? Nothing new there. What’s the problem?”

“The _problem_ is, Rodney, that we’re not cut off from Earth any longer. And if the complaints continue, you can be reassigned now.”

Rodney became chalk white from the mere thought of leaving Atlantis. But he wasn’t giving in just yet.

“They can’t call me back,” he said, as if he wanted to reassure himself. “They need me here. Nobody knows the city like I do, not even Radek. And he doesn’t even have the gene.”

“No, but others do, even the newcomers,” Carson reminded him. “And Radek is _almost_ as good as you are. If half the science department declares that they cannae work with you, you’ll find yourself back on Earth faster than you can say _wraithbait_.” Carson wanted a beat for maximum effect before delivering the final blow. “And this time you probably wouldnae be getting a nice’n cozy job at Area 51 again.”

He waited another moment for the thought to sink – and sink it did. If possible, Rodney paled even more than before.

“Oh God,” he whispered tonelessly. “I can’t… they can’t order me back… What would I do on Earth? This is where I belong… where I’m _needed_.”

“Aye, you are,” Carson’s voice was strangely compassionate now, “but don’t count on the brass understanding just how much you’re needed here. They wouldnae care, Rodney.”

As Rodney never did anything by halves, he was working himself up to a full-blown panic attack now.

“God, Carson,” he turned wide, pleading eyes to the doctor, “what am I to do?”

“Stop denying what happened and doing so as if we hadnae spent a year in extreme stress. As if we hadnae lost a lot of friends in a terrible way,” Carson said gently but forcefully. “Admit your feelings, your anger, and go on with your life.”

Rodney’s resistance crumbled in moments. He slumped in his chair, defeated.

“I… I don’t know _how_ ,” he murmured. “I always deal with those things by burying myself in even more work.”

“That wouldnae do the deal right now,” Carson was back in compassionate doctor-mode. “You cannae do this alone. No one of us can. We all need help.”

“I’m not going back to Heightmeyer, and that’s final!’ Rodney’s death glare was back, his chin jutting out defiantly. “I’ve tried her stupid counselling sessions – they were no use at all!”

“In that case,” Carson said slowly, carefully, “you might consider trying a… different kind of therapy sessions.”

“ _What_ kind do you exactly mean?” Rodney demanded.

Carson hesitated for a moment, unsure how to broach the topic carefully – then opted for the direct approach. “A disciplinary one,” he said.

Rodney seemed to understand at once, because he swallowed hard. “You mean… corporal punishment?”

Carson nodded. “Works for more people than you’d believe. Of course I cannae be sure that’s the right thing for you.”

“Is it for _you_?” Rodney blurted out. “I mean… is _that_ why you’re taking the loss of Ford so hard?”

“Oh, no,” Carson laughed bitterly. “Aiden was my lover, not my master. And, to tell the truth, he was such a bottom it wasnae even funny, most of the time – tough, gung-ho Marine as he might be.”

Rodney put his fingers into his ears – well, symbolically anyway.

“Okay, too much information. _Way_ too much information, thank you. But if not Ford…?” he trailed off, too embarrassed to actually ask.

“I go to a dominatrix,” Carson replied simply.

Rodney opened and closed his mouth several times before he could produce any articulate sound.

“A… dominatrix,” he finally repeated. “As in a leather and fetish club. You… you’re into BDSM stuff? Wow. I’d never think…”

Carson shook his head in tolerant amusement. “No, I’m not. It’s a disciplinary matter. But her other clientele… aye, they are very much into it.”

“And you’re telling me that we have a BDSM club here, in Atlantis?” Rodney tried to hide his shock – with no true effect.

“Not a permanent one, of course,” Carson said, “but yes, we do offer the people who have such needs the opportunity… and absolute discretion. You understand that no one of the leading staff is allowed to know about it. Not Elizabeth, not Maj… Colonel Sheppard, and most emphatically not Colonel Caldwell.”

“Or me, obviously,” Rodney added bitterly. He hated to be left out of anything; especially by people he thought were his friends.

Carson shook his head again and even laughed a little, this time with honest affection.

“Rodney, love, we didnae left you out because you’re the head scientist here. We left you out because you cannae keep a secret. You’d have blurted it out at the worst possible moment in front of Elizabeth or the maj… Colonel Sheppard, and we couldnae allow _that_.”

“Why not?” Rodney asked. “Caldwell I can understand, but Elizabeth and Sheppard have been here from day one. They are part of us, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Carson agreed. “But they also have an abusive streak in them – both have – and so has Caldwell. Such people mustn’t be allowed anywhere near to a BDSM playroom or they could cause great harm.”

“An abusive streak?” Rodney shook his head in amazement. “Where did you take _that_ from? Have talked to Heightmeyer lately?”

“I have,” Carson said, “but hers wasn’t the deciding voice. Lady Shaqira and the Big Daddy vetoed the mere idea of telling Elizabeth and the maj… the colonel. And they know better than anyone else who should be allowed to know of such places and who shouldnae.”

“Lady Shaqira… is she the dominatrix you’re seeing?” Rodney asked uncertainly. Carson nodded.

“Aye; she’s the only one we have here. But I’m not _seeing_ her the way you seem to mean it. Nor am I one of her slaves… not outside our sessions, anyway. When I feel the need to… unwind, to let go of my worries, she gives me what I need to be able to do so. That’s all. Ours is a purely… business-like relationship.”

“Does she…” Rodney swallowed nervously. “Does she have full-time slaves, too?”

Carson suddenly grinned. “Aye, I recon she does. They just donnae know yet that they’re owned. Not that they’d mind, at least one of them surely wouldnae,” he added, thinking of Radek and how comfortable the little Czech was with his submissive role in the love triangle with Miko and Grodin. “The other one might… or might not. I’m not sure.”

Rodney’s eyes widened with definite interest at that, but before he could have asked for intimate details – hey, he loved gossip as much as the average Joe! – Carson waved him off.

“No, Rodney, I’m not gonna tell you who they are. You’ll either figure it out on your own, eventually, or they’ll tell you if they want. It’s _their_ choice. Besides, we were discussing _your_ problem, remember?”

The eager twinkling left those impossibly blue eyes at once; they became dull and defensive again.

“So I guess you’d have a suggestion, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation, right?” he asked.

Carson nodded. “If you wanna try this path – and I cannae guarantee it’ll work for you, although I think it _might_ – you’ll have two choices. I can introduce you to my mistress, the Lady Shaqira, who’d be the more understanding one of our two local doms. However, that might be personally… awkward for you. Or you can go to the Big Daddy, with a recommendation from someone whose guarantees would be accepted. That would be less personal, but more physically painful. A _lot_ more, I’m told. I havnae had a session with him yet; nor do I assume I’d ever need one. My mistress can handle me well enough.”

“Do you know who these people are…? I mean, in real life?” Rodney asked.

“I know the identity of my mistress,” Carson said, “and I _think_ I could make an educated guess about that of the Big Daddy. But we make a policy of never talking about those things. It’s better for all parties involved.”

Considering the small scale of Atlantis’ population, that was certainly true. Rodney could see how anonymity would help avoiding really awkward situations – afterwards.

“What would _you_ suggest, then?” he asked hesitantly. “I mean if I wanted to give it a try…”

Carson had thought about the question in advance, so he didn’t have to consider it now.

“I think you should go to my mistress,” he said. “The Big Daddy could be too much for a beginner. You can always switch doms later, should you think the lady isn’t hard enough on you.”

He didn’t mention the real reason; that in his current mindset Rodney might not use his safe words in time and could get seriously hurt.

“I can make an appointment for you if you want,” was all he added.

Rodney seemed to think about it for… forever. Finally, he gave a jerky nod.

“Do it,” he said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Two days later Rodney received an e-mail message from Carson to meet him outside the Pegasus Bar at 2300. That surprised him a little, as the next _Themenabend_ wasn’t foreseen before two weeks’ time. But again, those… unofficial activities most likely weren’t openly announced. The BDSM club probably operated in the breaks between two _Themenabends_. People were known to visit the recreational area for their own private fun sometimes.

It surprised him to find Carson waiting for him in his usual daily uniform.

“I thought the dressing order would be a bit more… exotic,” he said. Carson grinned.

“You expected chains and leather and perhaps even a collar and a leash, didnae ya?”

“Well… more or less,” Carson admitted.

“I _told_ you I wasnae a slave,” Carson laughed. “Besides, we’re gonna change before we enter the _Darkroom_.”

“The _what_?” Rodney stuttered, suddenly very nervous again. “Where is it?”

“The _Darkroom_ is a virtual place,” Carson explained. “it mostly takes place here, in one of the side rooms, but not always. You’ll learn the details if you decide that this is for you.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then it’s better when you know as little as possible… for our sake _and_ yours. Come with me now!”

He led Rodney into the changing room, where he handed the wide-eyed scientist a leather harness that barely covered a man’s crotch and otherwise contained two additional leather straps, criss-crossing his chest, studded with small silver nails. Carson himself donned a similar piece and a mask that covered the upper half of his face.

“Punishment is administered to the bare skin,” he explained. “Do you want a mask, too?”

Rodney nodded. He knew he would be recognizable despite the mask, but wearing it offered a layer of distance he felt he’d need very much before things began in earnest. Thusly shielded, Carson led him into an adjoining room that looked fairly harmless at first sight. Just a room with sparse furniture, in dark leather. But then Rodney recognized the padded bench that Carson had dragged with him from some backwater planet they’d visited during one of their fruitless pursuits of a ZPM, stating that it was an examination table. Rodney had forgotten about it in the very moment it got out of eyesight, never asking himself what had become of it.

Now he knew – well, at least he could make an educated guess, seeing the restraints attached to it on both ends. A whipping bench, most likely. Which realization made him look around for the dominatrix.

Lady Shaqira stood at the foot end of the bench, resting one of her feet on a low, leather-covered stool. She was a curvaceous woman of middle height, but the nine-inch-heels of her lacquered, thigh-high black boots and her beehive hairdo made her look exceptionally tall. The skin-tight back leather bodice pushed up her breasts most enticingly, and she was wearing nothing but black mesh thighs with it – and studded black leather wrist guards. A whip with several long tails hung limply from her wrist. Her face was almost completely hidden behind a black silk mask, framed with long, soft black feathers, leaving only her mouth free, which was painted blood red… just like her fingernails.

She seemed vaguely familiar, despite her attire, but at the moment Rodney couldn’t put a face behind the impression.

To his mild shock, Carson lowered himself to his knees and kissed the boot of the dominatrix – the one that was resting on that stool.

“Mistress,” he murmured submissively. She patted his broad back with affection, signalling him to sit down – which Carson did. On his own haunches, knees slightly parted, his buttocks resting on his heels. She smiled at him, and at that very moment Rodney finally recognized her.

“Miko?!” he gasped in utter disbelief.

The dominatrix turned to him – and with a quick flick of her wrist, he bore down the tails of the whip across his bare back with surprising force, making him yelp.

“You will call me _Mistress_ – in _my_ house,” she said in a deep, smoky voice, so very different from her normal, everyday tone.

Now he understood what Carson had meant with _personally awkward_. That was the understatement of the century.

“Have you not heard me?” the dominatrix asked in Miko’s usually so gentle voice, and t he whip cracked down again.

“Yes... Yes I have…” he murmured.

“… _Mistress_ ,” Carson supplied quietly.

“Mistress,” Rodney repeated in hurry, but not soon enough to spare himself a third whiplash.

“That’s better,” Lady Shaqira said with dark satisfaction. “Has Carson lain down the rules for you?”

“N-no, Mistress.”

“I believed it wasn’t my place to do so,” Carson added quietly.”

Lady Shaqira nodded. “You were right. It was not. Now, Rodney, the rules are simple. Whenever you come to me, you’ll wear the harness you are wearing now. You will great me properly, as Carson has shown you. You’ll make it very clear whether you are in need of punishment or you simply want to play, and I shall treat you accordingly. In both cases, you will need safe words. Do you have any preferences?”

Rodney shook his head. “I’m not… familiar with all this, Mistress.”

“The safe words are there to keep you from being harmed,” she explained. “If you speak them, I’ll stop at once. So you need words you won’t forget easily… words that are familiar for you. You _have_ to associate the feeling of safety with them, so that they’d jump into your mind if needed. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. Can you think of any words you’d like to use?”

“I… erm… Schroedinger perhaps?” Rodney offered tentatively. At the baffled look of the dominatrix he shrugged. “That’s the name of my cat… the only creature on Earth that really cared for me.”

“All right,” Lady Shaqira said, “Schroedinger it is. So, tell me, Rodney, why are you here today? Do you want to play?”

“N-no, Mistress, I… I just don’t… I can’t let go of… of things that happened recently. I don’t want to go to the shrink, and Carson said that perhaps… perhaps you can help me with that.”

“So, you feel the need to be punished?” she asked. “Well, I can give you that. But it’s you who must decide whether it’s enough or not.”

Rodney bowed his head. “I… I see, Mistress.”

“Good. Go to the bench and lie down on your front, then. I’ll be careful with you – this time.”

~The End - for now~


End file.
